Page 9 of Forever Not Yours

“It’s not…the first time…with a bloke for me. So just do this. Let’s have this. Just this once. For us.”

There were so many alarm bells going off in my head. Red flags waving like alluring finishing lines in front of my eyes. And also words. All the words I needed to hear.

“Do it. Be a bit rough and just let loose. I need you to fuck me. Hard and fast. Don’t think, Jakey, just do it. I know you want to. I can see how you look at me, what I do to you when you don’t think I notice. I notice. I see everything. So just do it. Not because of what we are, or the consequences. Switch off. For once. Let me see the real Jakey. The one you hide from me. Because that is what I want.”

“I can’t,” I whispered.

“You can. Stop thinking so hard.”

I swallowed. He strained his neck up and kissed me. Nipped at my lips. Begged.

I was a sucker for a beggar.

And he was…irresistible. Always had been. Always wrapped me around his finger. Teased me. Pushed every one of my buttons. Every time.

The times I had fantasised about just this, having him underneath me, my dick already filling out in my jeans, him in boxers, shower-fresh, licking a firm line from my neck up over my Adam’s apple, my chin…

I leaned back, trying to gain some space, pull away from the madness reeling me in.

“You know you want to,” he teased in a voice that was all gravel and grit. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I could smell soap.

I was about to completely ruin everything I had ever wanted. Everything bright and good.

“Just do it, Jakey. Spit in your hand. Get that fat cock of yours out. Give it to me. Hard and fast.”

Had I not had a whole bunch of drinks in my system, and had I not been so bloody high on every word coming out of his mouth, I would have stopped right there. I would have gotten straight up and walked away.

I would also have asked all the right questions and not done what I did.

Regret? I didn’t know what that was either.

“Jake,” he warned, his nose pressing against mine. Maybe it was me staring him down. Maybe it was someone else. Maybe I wasn’t even me.

I snapped. I truly did, letting go of his wrists that now bore the red marks of my strength, my frustration. Anger pulsed through my veins. I couldn’t put words to it, my thoughts too scrambled, as I flipped him over like he weighed nothing and kicked his legs apart. Then I was ripping at his boxers, the flimsy fabric splitting apart between my hands.

I was good with my hands, and I knew every muscle on his goddamn body, every tendon and bone, every little curve of his back. The way his bum formed those little dimples at the bottom of his spine. I traced them, kneaded his buttocks, firm and contracted under my fingers.

“Do it,” he whined.

“What did you say?” I ground out between strangled breaths. He didn’t hesitate. Not for a second.

“Spit in your goddamn hand, Jakey. Show me what you’ve got.”

I spat. I wasn’t proud of myself. But neither was he, crawling up on his knees and offering himself up like that. Smoothing my hand down his back, I separated his butt cheeks and spat again, watching my saliva trickle down his crack. He’d asked for it.

I had nothing here. It hadn’t even crossed my mind to bring my trusty hook-up kit. No lube. No condoms. Nothing. And I was still fully clothed while he was naked, his skin glistening in the soft light from the bedside table.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said. “You’re overthinking shit again, Jakey. I need you. I need you to—”

I pressed my finger against his opening, silencing him, and followed up with a swift swat of my hand. A red blush formed on that smoothness as he made a sound that went straight to my dick.

Perhaps it was anger, shame. Maybe it was years of pent-up frustration with him, and me, my broken heart somewhere in the middle of all the lies and truths and my complete inability to control myself around him. My body shook with everything that this was, the total madness of my finger finding itself deep inside him as he sucked in breath. Hard.

“More,” he whispered. I could barely hear him over my own breaths and the dick-fever taking over my brain. “More.”

More of what? Fuck knew, but I landed another firm smack on his buttock, then one on the other side. The noise that came out of his mouth was intoxicating, bewildering, soothing to my soul.

“Please…”

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